His Black Rose
by Raven On The Writing Desk
Summary: The first locket Undertaker ever kept, was a locket with a black rose on it. He's had it since he was a young human boy. Black roses were HER favorite. He keeps that locket close to his heart. No one but him has ever seen it, or ever will see it. That locket is a memory of long lost love, in a land once so wild. POSSIBLE SEQUEL INCOMING
1. The Undertaker And The Nobelwoman

This is the story of a man and a women.

Perhaps you have heard this story in your younger days.

One was a noblewoman, and the other a young apprentice to the local Undertaker.

The two lived in London, but this was when London was young and lived in fear of the woods that surrounded them.

Towns were far away, and their roads were long and harsh.

Now, the noblewoman and the apprentice were both 17.

When the noblewoman's younger sister died in infancy, the two met for the first time.

Almost instantly the young'uns fell for each other, yet their love could not be.

But, every night, the apprentice would sneak away, and visit the noblewoman.

She would stand on her balcony with him below her, and they would talk the night away.

All was fine for a few months, before her father found out.

To protect his only child, he sent her to live at her uncle's country estate in the next town.

Her wealth made it easy to travel, but anyone else would have certainly perished.

Soon, the apprentice found out about his love's leaving.

Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, and even months to years.

Finally, the apprentice passed at age 22.

His master failed to determine the cause of his death, and declared he had died of a broken heart.

The father felt guilty, but did not send for his daughter, nor did he send the news.

Oh? You've never heard this story? Do you wonder what became of the daughter?

Well if not,

**I'd say it's time you begun.**


	2. The Shinigami

The young noblewomen sat in her rather plain and ordinary room in her uncle's country house, the dying sun casting a faint glow in the plain room. She was in great contrast with the rest of the room.

The noblewomen was five or so feet tall, wearing a flowing dress of silver silk with long brown hair tumbling like a wave down her shoulders. She was very lean and pale, with nary a mark upon her, a sign of a noblewoman. Her eyes were an emerald color that shone like jewels. In her long hair was a dethorned black rose. An odd flower, but a lovely one nonetheless.

In contrast to her rather regal appearance, the room was large, but the floors and walls were plain wood, as were the posts and headboard of the four-post bed. There was a wardrobe beside the west window, and a chair with a little table beside the east window. The only other thing was a writing desk pushed into the west corner. It was dusty, and stacked with unopened letters, half opened gifts, and old books. The bed was nothing special, made with simple white sheets and a tan comforter.

Her room was in the highest part of the large house, and so received all the light of the day. Not only that, but it was quiet and peaceful. She had even made friends with a large female Barn Owl that nested in a tree hollow outside of the west window.

There was a soft rap outside the door. It was her uncle, calling to her.

"Lila! I am retiring. Do not stay up too late!"

"Yes Uncle! I won't!"

Her uncle continued on his way, and a few minutes later a door closed and latched. The women of twenty-two, Lila, sighed. She rose from where she sat beside the window, reading, and put down her book in favor of picking up the candle. Lila crossed to her desk with a silent and dainty stride. She put down her candle and cleared off her dusty desk, placing each object on the floor with care. Beneath the clutter was a cherrywood desk, which had been protected from the dust by the burden of clutter it had bore.

From within a drawer, Lila pulled out a piece of crisp parchment and an inkwell. From within a small and carefully protected compartment, she pulled out a quill made of a primary feather from her owl friend. By the light of the candle, Lila began to pen a note to her lover back in London.

In London, night had descended, and with it came a cold and biting night air. The streets were empty, and each building shut tight. The cold air had driven every living thing off of the streets.

Standing in the darkness was an old women with silver hair, and a black robe speckled with white dots, as if the stars had descended from the sky and lain themselves upon her wrap. The women leaned against an otherworldly object disguised as the most common of farming tools. Appearing as a farming sickle, this object was in fact a Death Scythe used by the Shinigami. This particular model was the highest rank that could be obtained by the soul retrievers. This women was, in fact, a Shinigami. Neither was she dead, nor was she alive.

The old woman's eyes seemed to shine in the dark. Her eyes were fixed upon the only funeral parlor in London. In her hand she held spool of medical thread. In the darkest of nights, with no one to bear witness to the events, the circle of life would stop in its tracks, and rewind for one man.

Behind the parlor was a dirt path leading about half a mile out of town. If the dead were buried too close to town, the wild animals prowling the woods that dominated London at the time were sure to cause trouble within the city.

The old women walked down the path, her Scythe slung casually over her shoulder. Her expression was positively bored, but there was a little spark of interest in the way she walked. The task of retrieving souls was so mundane and monotonous, but every now and again that dull job was interrupted.

After death, most humans would move into their correct afterlife. But, a few were selected to continue living. They would become Shinigami, but it was a rare happening. The decision would be made when the body and soul separated, and the soul was judged. On rare occasions, a decision was changed after this process, as in this instant.

There was an undertaker's apprentice. The young lad, who had died of unknown causes, had his soul collected, stamped, and not given another thought. His soul did not move on, though. It lingered on Earth, even after the Reaping, in the form of a ghostly pale figure, wandering the streets and causing panic. Those in the higher offices of the Shinigami Dispatch, as it was called, were alarmed. It was important that the mortals continued to live in ignorance. To believe ghosts and zombies, angels and devils, and the Reapers of old, were only fairy tales. The mortals would not be able to comprehend the truth.

In the bone yard, among the stones, a pale man with sharp features wove between the stones, looking far and wide, as if looking for something. The women cleared her throat loudly to attract the ghoul's attention. She did indeed get the man's attention.

The man was pale white, very thin, and had very lean and sharp features. His hair was shaggy, and often fell in his face. He would occasionally reach out with long and spindly fingers that were tipped by long black fingernails, trying to grab something that was not there. After a few minutes, he spoke,

"...Who are you? What do you want?"

The old women walked down the path to the confused specter, speaking in a calming voice,

"My name is not important now, for I am simply doing my job as a Grim Reaper. We have seen your affairs with the young women, Lily, was it?"

The apprentice's ghoul snapped,

"Her name was Lila!"

He snapped his mouth closed.

_Who is Lila? Why am I defending her so angrily, if all I know of her is her name?_

The old women dipped her head gracefully.

"Lila, yes, my apologies. You do really care for her, I see. I am here to restore you to the world you once walked upon. You are a very interesting man. So, I will bring you back. I'll let you live again, but you will live for an eternity, collecting the souls of the deceased. Every human must be judged in their death, and sent away to their own eternity. You have avoided it, until now. In this, the darkest of nights, you are to be restored to life as a Shinigami, to collect souls and guide them through death for all eternity."

The Reaper raised her Scythe. The ghoul opened his mouth, but no words came out. Only a strangled scream as the blade cut into his throat. Blood spilled, real blood like what is in a human. His figure solidified, and the man's feet felt the ground. His skin began to have color again, but it was still very pale, as was his hair a silvery color. It had been years since the sun had touched his skin and hair, and now the color had faded away.

The man let out a strangled sound, and fell to his hands and knees on the ground, blood pouring from his neck. His entire body was on fire, blazing back to life and going haywire. The Reaper pulled the medical thread from her pocket, and tilted up the man's chin. She began carefully sowing the wound upon his neck closed in a wide diamond-like pattern. She did not have to do any work, instead, the thread unwound itself from the spool, weaving in and out of his skin to close the injury.

There was a tingling, and the stitching faded into his skin, as if it was a tattoo. The female grabbed his face sharply, studying it.

"Hm...You are still very recognizable, even as a dead man."

She stood, and with another sharp slash, she cut the man's face. He pitched back, spattering even more blood. The women then sat upon his chest so he could not move, and the thread began to get to work. The diamond stitch pattern faded into his skin once again, as if it was a tattoo. As she worked, the color in his eyes drained away and was replaced with the distinctive two colors in a Reaper's eyes.

She rose off of him, and cleaned her blade of his blood.

"Your soul has returned to you. For the rest of time you will serve as a protector of souls. However, I first have to persuade those in the higher offices, that I decided to do what was justified. You have some time to do as you want, but be careful of what you do. You are believed to be dead."

She turned to leave, but the resurrected man spoke the first question he had,

"Reaper! I have another question, what is my name? I do not remember."

She stopped.

"Your name...is Undertaker."


	3. Lila!

The man, now known as Undertaker, was in a daze. Everything had happened so fast. He was confused, and in a lot of pain. Pain...pain…

_How can I feel pain?_

Undertaker remembered dying. He remembered all of his time wandering as a soul through the London streets. His memories were slowly coming back to him. He remembered his birthday, his childhood, his training as an undertaker, but his name never did come back to him. Perhaps the women told him the truth of his name, but why was he named after his profession? Undertaker tried harder to remember, but the more he tried, the memory slipped farther from his grasp.

He also had a faint memory, one that he felt as though he would be better off forgetting. The memory caused him a great pain in his heart, and drowned him in sorrow.

Undertaker saw a vision when he closed his eyes. There was a woman of five or so feet tall, wearing a flowing dress of silver silk with long brown hair tumbling like a wave down her shoulders. She was very lean and pale, with nary a mark upon her, a sign of a noblewoman. Her eyes were an emerald color that shone like jewels. In her hands, she held a bunch of black roses to her face, smelling them. Her face was very angular, and she looked back at Undertaker with love.

Undertaker jumped up, as if the ground had burned his feet. He still couldn't remember who this woman was, or why she was so important, but he knew deep in his heart she was.

Above him, the clouds began to growl, threatening London with the approach of a storm. Along with it came a chilling wind. Winter was not too far away, and London winters in this wild land were harsh and long.

Undertaker rose his face to the sky, and closed his eyes, allowing the cold warning wind to caress his face. He could actually feel things now. For the first time in days he had long lost count of, he could feel.

With his eyes closed, the vision of that women kept replaying in his head. He still didn't know who she was, but she sparked a strong emotion in him; love.

The first drops of rain fell from the sky. The cold drops splattered upon his forehead and cheeks, running down his pale skin, cooling the pain of the marks that disfigured his looks. The full fury of the rain poured down shortly after, soaking his hair and clothes. The cold wind that had blown in was loud, and whistled in his ears.

_Lila..._

Undertaker's eyes snapped open, his dual-colored eyes shining bright with emotions.

_Lila…_

"Lila, my love!"

The exclamation blurted past Undertaker's lips, but was drowned out by a clap of thunder.


	4. Freak

The wind was roaring through the trees, the rain was pelting, and the thunder was deafening. Undertaker was slowly learning that he had new skills along with his new life. He was faster, stronger, smarter, and had a higher pain tolerance. He also healed much faster than he used to. The marks on his skin drawn by the Reaper's Scythe barely hurt anymore.

It was hard to control these new abilities. He especially struggled to stop when he was running, but why was he running?

Well, Undertaker was running from the cemetery as fast as he possibly could. He was getting sudden memories of this, "Lila", who sparked deep love within him. He remembered where she lived now, and was determined to get there. He ran away to his lover's manor, not remembering she had moved away.

When he did arrive at the large house, he rapped quickly upon the door. Lila's father answered.

"Oh? A visitor? Did you receive a card?"

Lila's family never had servants. She came from a long line of explorers and very proud individuals. What couldn't be done of one's own power was not worth doing, they said. For that reason, her father, Victor Lonwic, was the one who answered the door.

Undertaker did not know this man, but he did bare a small resemblance to Lila. Undertaker spoke gruffly,

"Lila. I am looking for Lila."

Mr. Lonwic seemed rather offended at the brash man. He replied harshly,

"Now listen here, young man! What do you think gives you the right to appear at my home so late at night, and during my preparations for winter, mind you, and demand to know where my daughter is?!"

Undertaker was confused. If this man was Lila's father, shouldn't he know him? Recognize him? Something? If the love he felt was true, maybe they had been engaged or married! Perhaps he had come rather late, but this man was acting as if they had never met!

Undertaker shouldered past him in haste, getting one foot inside of the door, and called out,

"Lila! Lila!"

Mr. Lonwic removed Undertaker from his personal space with a sharp backhand to the face. Undertaker stumbled back into the rain. He was in no pain, nor was there a mark, but to recoil from being struck was instinct. The backhand, however, proved rather helpful. It had calmed Undertaker of his hasty actions, and brought him back to his senses. Undertaker forced himself into calmness, and forced to his face a patient smile. Mr. Lonwic showed some fear of Undertaker, who then began to speak calmly,

"I am looking for Lila~ I come to bring a message for her."

Mr. Lonwic was studying Undertaker's eyes. Not to ascertain whether or not he was telling the truth, but he didn't trust the double colors of his eyes. Mr. Lonwic stepped back, and put his hand on the door.

"She is not here, you demon! Stay away from my child! You will never find her, you freak!"

Mr. Lonwic slammed the door shut. Undertaker was in surprise, his mouth slightly agape. He backed up, and began walking down the path leading from the home. As he walked, he looked down into a puddle, and saw his pale and scared reflection staring back at him. Slowly, Undertaker put one hand over one of his unnaturally colored eyes, and muttered,

"Freak...I see…"

Undertaker proceeded to gather a lock of hair from the top of his head, and picked up a rock from the ground. With his legendary power, he broke the rock, so it would have a jagged edge. He settled the sharp edge upon the lock he had gathered, and easily sliced off a piece of his long hair. He didn't cut off too much, in fact, the loss was barely noticeable. The only change was that he now had bangs that fell down his face, covering up the eyes that deemed him as a freak.


	5. First Flakes Of Snow

The sand in the hourglass was running low, the rain was freezing and turning to snow. The thunder and lightning were dancing together, illuminating the world in flashes of light. With speed unknown to man, Undertaker ran across the Lonwic property until he came to the stables on the edge of the property line. His clothes and hair were plastered to him but not a thing in the world could stop this man now.

Grasping the lock firmly in his hand, Undertaker twisted it, and in pieces it fell upon the ground. The horses inside began to kick and rear, growing more and more excited by what was happening. They knew this man was no ordinary human.

Undertaker threw open the barn to see the horses. The Lonwic's had an impressive collection of horses. Only the finest for one of the oldest family lines, people said.

Undertaker walked briskly across the dirt floor, ignoring the horses as they kicked at their pens. His eyes, hidden behind a veil of silver hair, were set on a big chestnut stallion in a pen at the rear of the barn. It was clear this was a more experienced horse, because he did not kick and buck like the younger horses. He just stood there and watched Undertaker, until the man came up and reached for the latch. That is when the horse bunched its muscles, and got ready. Undertaker opened the latch with a small sound, and the stallion broke out of the pen in full gallop, bent for the open barn door. Undertaker grabbed onto the horse's mane as it made a break for the fresh air, and swung himself onto its back. Together, the two emerged into the storm, neither one afraid of the storm for their own reasons.

The two were a blur as they left the Lonwic property. The wind and the rain lashed at Undertaker's unprotected face, making it so he could not see the road. The wind, the rain, and his own blurry eyesight were forcing him to rely on the horse. But how could the horse know where it was going without directions? Somehow, the steed did, and set itself on a locked gallop out of town and through the forest. They jumped trees and ducked branches together. The little creatures of the forest floor stood at the edge of the path that was beaten by the horse's powerful feet to watch the two. Once they had passed, the animals slipped back into hiding. The entire forest seemed to be holding its breath, as the first few flakes of snow stuck to the leaves of the trees.


	6. Unfinished Business

Undertaker, along with his prize-winning horse, galloped up to the gate of the farmhouse. Undertaker leapt off the horse and ran through the gates. At the side of the house there was a candle offering a soft beacon of light. As he rounded the house, he saw Lila, with her crossed arms resting on the windowsill, leaning out of the window slightly to catch the little flakes of snow. She had not noticed him, and was instead, looking up to the sky. Undertaker had come through the thunder, the cold wind, the rain, and the snow to find Lila awake by her windowsill. The women was a sight for sore eyes and a view to kill.

He broke down in horror at her standing there, the glow from the moon shown through the cracks in her hair. Undertaker shouted with passion,

"I love you so much!"

Lila took no notice, not even sparing him a glance, and whispered to the moon,

"Where are you now?"

Undertaker stopped and questioned her doubt, but soon realized that she was talking to God now.

He climbed up the wall and tried to jump into her arms, but he merely passed through her, his form beginning to disappear. Undertaker looked in the mirror, but something was wrong. He saw Lila behind him, but his own reflection was gone. There was smoke in her fireplace, as white as the snow. Undertaker felt a hand on his shoulder, and a voice told him softly,

"_Now it's time to go_."

Undertaker remembered the women who he'd seen in the graveyard, who put scars on his face.

He smacked away the hand and the snow white smoke rose up and out of the chimney with more vigor than before. He clawed out, trying to grab Lila, but his hands went through her, and she didn't even seem to know he was there. The voice said to him, more sternly than before,

"Undertaker! It's time to go! I gave you time, and that time is up now!"

Undertaker looked at Lila with hopeless eyes, while two hands much stronger than his gripped his wrists. He was heartbroken, but began to fight with rage, repeatedly screaming out to Lila, trying to get her attention.

Lila didn't look back at him. She didn't move. Undertaker was forcibly removed by the women-he never did get her name-who had called herself a "Shinigami". He could see a white light in the distance that seemed to be waiting for him. Undertaker fought with renewed passion was he was dragged away into the white light. Just before the blinding white took over his vision, he screamed,

"Don't touch me! I have unfinished business!"

But his last scream went unheard. His muscles didn't respond and his limbs were heavy. His vision began to fade away until everything went black.


	7. Love

Hooves were clattering across cobble stone as they pulled along carriages in teams of one or two. London had come a long way since the time of Undertaker and Lila. Undertaker still worked in the shop of his youth. After he was blinded by the tunnel of white light, he hadn't seen his love again.

London had tamed the forest that once ruled it, and now it was a fast-paced and fast-growing city. Undertaker stayed in the back alleys, where all the old or undesirable buildings were. Most had tried to change with the times, but not Undertaker's. He still had his old sign that never could stay up, his same clothes and hair, which he only cut when it really got in his way. Through the decades, love and company had come and gone. The young Phantomhive boy, Ciel, only came to visit when he wanted something from his old informant, not that Undertaker really minded. He liked the silence and solitude of the eternal life he lived. He did work with the Shinigami for a long, long time, but after all the noise and inane busywork, he had gotten bored, and gone back to his childhood calling. He didn't get out much, but sometimes he did go to visit Lila. In fact, he was going to go today, once the streets cleared away a little. The sky was dark, and warned of rain, which would clear the streets of the pedestrians once it started.

Walking to the door, Undertaker put on a long trench coat, and picked up his umbrella. He opened it once he was outside, locked his store, and rested the thin metal bar on his shoulder. People were already scurrying to find shelter from the rain. Nary a glance was spared as Undertaker walked in the opposite direction, going right towards the oncoming storm.

After walking for about an hour, he came to the gates of the Lonwic family. The gates were still as polished as ever. With the owners too old now to go down and clean the gates themselves, sometimes people from the town came to do it for them.

The gate was easy to open. It wasn't locked, since the gate was not high enough to deter robbers from climbing over it, locking it was just a waste.

Undertaker opened the gate gently, long and pale fingers tipped by black fingernails curled around the bar to push it open. He turned down a dirt path that led to a stream downhill from the house. The rain had already begun, but it wasn't that heavy. By the time he was halfway to the stream, the rain had become large and cold drops. At the side of the stream, Undertaker dropped to his knees so he could speak to his love,

"You know you can always talk to me, right? I know we've grown a lot since then, especially me. Neither of us are the same anymore, are we?"

He laughed and answered his own question,

"No, I didn't think so. You will always be here, right? You won't leave. I won't leave either."

Saying those words, Undertaker removed the umbrella from his shoulder. He placed the handle on the ground so the rain would just slide off, and leaned the thin metal bar up against the tombstone.


	8. Dear Greatest Readers

Hello again, those of you who are still reading this. I'm back to give some news. After a long hiatus of struggling to find time to actually get back to writing, I have thought of at least the first chapter of a possible sequel. It may be a long story, a short one, or a one shot. I say it's a possible sequel because it depends on how you received the story. Some of you may want to see more of Lily and Undertaker. Some like it right where it left off. So it will be up to you to see this as a sequel or just another story. With luck, I can have it up 2/15/17. I hope to see some of you there!

-ROTWD


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